


Better Than Coffee

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: During Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-28
Updated: 2007-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-06 09:30:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8744956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Sam and Dean are looking for a little girl, and find more than they expected, in the cold of a north western Easter





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Title: Better Than Coffee  
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean  
Rating: NC-17  
Word Count: 1360  
Summary: Sam and Dean are looking for a little girl, and find more than they expected, in the cold of a north western Easter...For [ ](http://shotofjack.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://shotofjack.livejournal.com/)**shotofjack** , who requested: “SPN, Sam/Dean, Schmoop, NC17, prompt - white. Sam & Dean come across a spirit while trying to save a little girl's life and realize the spirit is trying to help too.” Happy Holidays my dear! I hope it’s what you wanted!  
  
A/N & Warnings: Incest, of course…I'm not sure this is what I wanted it to be...and the first half seems a little disjointed from the first half...but...well, I like both parts...so...  
  
  
  
“Sam, get down!” Dean barreled through the trees, trying to aim at the spirit and circle around so he wouldn’t hit Sam.   
  
Sam dove into the dirt and Dean fired a blast of rock salt into the center of the apparition. It screeched and vanished. Sam rolled up to his knees, shaking his head. “What was that?”  
  
“You were in the way.”  
  
“Fuck Dean.” Sam got up a little shakily, brushing the dirt from his jeans and picking ruefully at the new rip in his left knee. “My last pair of jeans.”  
  
“So, I’ll buy you a new pair. Quit whining.”  
  
“You only pissed it off.”  
  
“Nah, come on, before the trail gets cold.”  
  
“Trail? What trail?” Sam shook his head. “We’re chasing our tails out here Dean. That ghost was the only thing we had going for us.”  
  
“Going for us? It was a ghost Sam.”  
  
“Whatever.” Sam picked up the flashlight he’d lost in the tussle and shook his head. “I don’t think she—it—was trying to stop us. I think, maybe it was trying to help.”  
  
“Sam, it was a spirit, it was blocking the path…it pushed you. I don’t call that help.”  
  
Sam shook his head. “She was trying to tell me something. I don’t think the girl is down that path.”  
  
“The caves are down the path.”  
  
“Maybe the girl isn’t in the caves.”  
  
Dean stopped, shouldering the shotgun. “You were the one that said this was the work of an angry spirit. You were the one who said the caves were the most likely place.”  
  
Sam shook his head. “I know. I’m saying maybe I was wrong.”  
  
“So now what?”  
  
Sam looked through the trees in the direction the ghost had shoved him. He gestured that way, feeling a little ridiculous. “Maybe we go this way…see what it was trying to tell us?”  
  
Dean glared at him. “And if it was trying to misdirect us?  
  
Sam couldn’t explain it. He hadn’t been able to understand her, but somehow he trusted her. “Maybe it wasn’t our angry spirit. Did she look angry to you?”  
  
“We’re running out of time here, Sam.” Dean stalked closer, glared into the trees, sweeping his light in an arc, then freezing. “What’s that?”  
  
Sam turned, squinting as Dean’s light picked up something white a hundred yards away. They sprinted toward it, stopping as they reached it and Sam bent down. “It’s a jacket…about the size an 8 year old girl might wear.”  
  
“Who puts a kid in a white jacket?” Dean asked, even as he started sweeping his light around them.  
  
“It’s Easter.” Sam said, standing with the jacket in his hands. “She’s probably cold without it.” Sam was cold, and Dean had already elaborated on the coldness of the early April night. Poor little Blanca Martin had to be freezing.  
  
“If she isn’t dead.” Dean said.  
  
“Yeah.” Sam lifted his light to examine the coat. Other than a little mud, there wasn’t a mark on it. “Well, at least there’s no blood.”  
  
“Dude, do you hear that?” Dean took a few steps away. “It’s like crying.”  
  
Sam looked up, spotting the ghost in the trees ahead. “There. Put the gun down.” Sam ventured forward. It looked decidedly more angry than it had before. “He won’t shoot you again.” Sam said as he got closer, his hands held out. “Do you know where she is?”  
  
It was the spirit of a woman, young…pretty. Sam eased closer as she turned and looked over her shoulder. “Down there?”   
  
“Sam?”   
  
“There’s a ravine.”   
  
The spirit disappeared, only to reappear near the edge. Sam moved closer, peering down the steep hill. “Show me.”  
  
The spirit drifted, stutter-moving away. It stopped beside a bunch of rocks. There was movement. Sam aimed his light in that direction. “Blanca?” He looked behind him as Dean caught up. “I think that’s her. I’m going down.”  
  
“Just be careful.”  
  
Sam nodded and set off down the hill, skidding and sliding on the loose soil. As he got closer he could hear crying. “Blanca Martin?”  
  
Then he was there, standing on the rock. She blinked up at him, her tear stained face unbelieving. Sam knelt beside her, holding her jacket out to her. “Hi Blanca. I’m Sam. Are you okay?”  
  
She nodded slowly, her dark eyes wide as she stared at Sam. “I’m going to help you get home, okay?” Again she nodded, then looked down at her hand. Sam moved the light to see what she was doing and started. She sat beside a skeleton, her hand on the bones of the hand.   
  
“Sam?”  
  
“Yeah…Dean, I’ve got her. We’re coming up.”  
  
The ghost appeared again, hovering over the bones. “Is this you?” Sam asked. She smiled sad and soft and he nodded. “I’ll come back for you, okay?” Sam bundled the little girl up in her jacket and lifted her. “Thank you.”  
  
The climb up was harder, especially with Blanca squirming around trying to watch the ghost, but eventually he made the top, Dean taking the girl from him so he could get to his feet. “I got losted.” Blanca said as Dean shifted her onto his hip.  
  
“Yeah? I guess you did.” Sam said. “There are bones down there,” he said to Dean.   
  
“I guess we come back after we get Blanca home to her mommy.”  
  
“My mommy was down there.” Blanca said and Sam shrugged as Dean looked at him.  
  
“Let’s get you home.”  
  
  
Dean was sprawled on the one bed in the room as Sam came in with coffees. “Well…apparently the bones belonged to one Sophie Martin.”  
  
Dean raised an eyebrow and reached for his coffee. “Martin?”  
  
Sam nodded. “Blanca’s mother. She went missing 7 and a half years ago.”  
  
“So…who is the woman we met?”  
  
“The second Mrs. Martin.”  
  
“Foul play?”  
  
Sam shrugged. “Don’t know. There are no records of any appearance of a ghost in the woods, nothing to indicate she’s ever been seen before.”  
  
“Weird.”  
  
He sipped at his coffee. “Yeah. But, she’ll get a proper burial now.”  
  
“Well that’s something.” Dean put his coffee aside and motioned for Sam to join him.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Come here.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I’m cold…and you’re a freaking inferno. Besides, you owe me.”  
  
Sam raised an eyebrow and pulled off his jacket. “Oh? What do I owe you?”  
  
Dean licked his lips. “You said Fuck on the hunt. Rules are rules.”  
  
“Your rules, you mean.”  
  
“You said it, now I get to do it.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Dean pouted and Sam closed his eyes. This was his new game. Make up silly rules and insist Sam had broken them so that he could get laid. If Sam looked at him, he’d give in…because those lips…those lips pouting…they just raveled him undone every time.  
  
“Come on Sammy…we saved the girl, found the bones, we didn’t even get thrown around this time…”  
  
Sam started, because Dean’s hands…Dean’s _cold_ hands had found their way under his shirt without preamble. “Jesus, Dean.”  
  
“If you won’t come to bed, I’ll have to come to you.” His hands stopped over Sam’s nipples, rubbing in circles that did little to warm Dean’s hands, but flushed Sam with heat. “You don’t want me to freeze to death do you Sammy?”  
  
“No…couldn’t have that.” Sam breathed as he felt Dean get closer.   
  
“That’s my boy.” Dean said as one hand moved down to Sam’s groin. Sam had gotten hard in an instant when Dean touched him. As much as he tried to protest Dean’s games, there were certainly plus points. “Want you.” Dean whispered. “Want you to warm me up Sammy…I’m cold…can you…?” His hand snaked behind Sam’s head and pulled him down to kiss, and Sam couldn’t help the way his tongue pushed into Dean’s mouth, like it was solid heat seeking out what was cold.   
  
They stumbled and fell in a tangle of arms and legs and fingers trying desperately to undo belts and zippers and somehow they managed to get suitably naked. “Fuck…Dean…” Sam gasped as he sank into his brother. Dean was already dripping, one touch and he was coming between them, his muscles clenching around Sam until he came too….all much to fast.  
  
Sam rolled off, but Dean pulled him close. “Better now?” Sam asked with a kiss.  
  
“Better than coffee.” Dean said with a grin. “Warms a boy up from the inside.”


End file.
